


All Patched Up

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McGenji Valentine Exchange, Post-Recall, Robot Repairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: McCree and Genji patch each other up after a mission early into the Recall. Both of them take the time to reflect a little while enjoying each other's company.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyhoneydarlinglove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyhoneydarlinglove/gifts).



> prompt was "patching each other up after a battle." Special thanks to BadonKaDank for being my amazing beta

Genji sits on a rickety table, rocking back and forth on it while waiting for McCree. In his younger days, he remembers how uneven furniture would drive Hanzo crazy.

 

Currently, he’s sitting alone on the table in the back of a store room to an omnic repair shop. Broken, frayed wires hang from his knee joint where his left calf is supposed to be. A small, unopened biotic field emitter sits next to him. Through the thin walls of the room, he hears McCree converse with the omnic shop owner. Usually the distant chatter would sound muffled, but not to Genji. His enhanced hearing lets him catch the small exchange perfectly:

 

_“Tu necesito lo toma facil, Lombardo.”_

 

_“Yo no quiero tu traigas me problemas, McCree.”_

 

Genji doesn’t understand a single word of Spanish, but the omnic--Lombardo, he guesses--sounds worried. He’d certainly seemed worried when McCree nearly kicked his door open earlier, barging in covered in dust and blood with a disfigured cyborg in his arms.

 

The door to the back room is calmly opened **_,_ ** and McCree steps in with a box. He walks with a slight limp, and Genji recalls the explosion they witnessed and how he didn’t hesitate to use his super agility to tackle his partner into cover. Of course, neither of them got away unscathed. Both of their comms were either damaged or blown away when the car bomb went off. At least the injuries they sustained weren’t critical.

 

“I thought I told you to get that thing runnin’ a minute ago.” McCree nods towards the unopened biotic field. Genji picks it up with his one hand--the other being too damaged to function--and activates it.

 

“I was waiting for you to get back,” he tells McCree. “You need it too. It looks like your head is still bleeding. Besides, I’m mostly made of metal--you’re significantly squishier.”

 

McCree scoffs. “You callin’ me fat?”

 

“I wouldn’t say that, though you do seem to be a bit larger than when I last saw you. Back in the Overwatch days.”

 

“I think I liked you better when hardly ever said anythin’.”

 

Yellow light shimmers from the biotic field emitter like a sort of beacon. Both of them can already feel the warmth and comfort of the light wash over their tired bodies.

 

McCree is surveying the tools he has in the box. Several other pieces of miscellaneous robotic tech and a first aid kit accompany them. Genji guesses those are meant to be used on him, though his concerns lie somewhere else, like the visible wound near the corner of McCree’s forehead. A dried trickle of blood hangs next to his eye and blends into the man’s facial hair.

 

“McCree, you look like shit.”

 

“Can’t be any worse than how yourself is lookin’. I picked up some spare parts from Lombardo that might be able to at least get your hand workin’ properly again.” McCree drags the backside of his sleeve across his forehead, staining it with blood, dust, and sweat. “Now, I ain’t no Dr. Ziegler when it comes to mechanics, but I should know enough robotic jargon to do a decent patch job.”

 

“Only my synthetic parts have been damaged. Don’t stall treating yourself for me. Be a darlin’, as you would say.” Genji fails to inform McCree about the suspected damage done to his temperature regulators. Already, he feels sweat begin to slide down his scarred forehead towards his equally scarred cheek. Omnics that are entirely made up of metal don’t usually have busted cooling units, nor do they have sweat glands, so the omnic-owned back room they’re in has no fan of any sort.

 

McCree is taking the medkit he nabbed out of the box and opening it up. Even with the biotic field restoring his energy, it won’t bind an open wound back together. “I’ve got a hunch that my head’s gonna need some stitchin’ up,” he says. He’s right; if the gash near his temper continues to go untreated, he could risk an infection. McCree has a clean needle threaded. “Think you’re up for this job?”

 

“We should clean it, first. I can’t imagine dust that’s been kicked up by an explosion is any good for a cut.”

 

“In that case, I’ll be right back. Gonna take a trip to the bathroom and clean up, which means I’m gonna have to find me one. Doubt an omnic-run place would have one.”

 

Again, McCree leaves him alone on the table. Genji looks down at the contents of McCree’s box. He recognizes some of the tools as the same ones Angela used when making repairs to his body after an ugly mission. All he needed was to have McCree fuss over him like she did, and today would be a perfect parallel to his days in Overwatch. But as nostalgic as it’d make him feel, Genji prefered not to have a repeat of his darker days.

 

He remembers being bitter, snapping at Angela when she would only try to help. His belligerence was a result of the pent up anger against his clan--against Hanzo. While he was painted as a weapon of war by Overwatch, only Genji was fully aware about the torrent of indignant emotions inside of him, screaming to be let out. Sure, some days were better. Some days he’d let Angela try to talk to him without becoming frustrated and snapping her.

 

His time spent in Nepal with the Shambali has made him let go most of the misery that plagued him years ago. Zenyatta’s sanguine teachings had cleared a path for him. But Genji still remembers the first words he ever spoke to McCree:

 

_It must be nice to still have organic lungs that you can ruin with that stupid smoke._

 

The door opens, and Genji’s mind snaps back to the present.

 

“Back!” McCree chimes in. His beard is damp and the wound on his head is clean. Any muck or grime that coated him from their mission is gone. He positions himself in front of Genji, eyes fixated on the needle and thread. His infamous cowboy hat is off and in his hands. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

 

Genji picks up the needle and begins to stitch up McCree. He's never had to give anyone stitches before; it was always a job for medics. McCree flinches every time the needle pokes through his skin. His fingers squeeze harder around his hat. Yes, while getting stitches without any kind of anesthetic sucked, both of them know that they've had much worse.

 

When Genji finished, he tied off the thread and snipped it using bandage scissors from the medkit. He makes sure to wrap a bandage around McCree’s head for good measure. It’s something he read about in medical journals back in his Overwatch days; isolating himself from view in the med bay meant not having too much of a variety other than medical journals to read.

 

“You should be okay,” he says, glad that they're done with McCree’s wounds first. “I am not Angela, either, but those stitches should last until we get back to base.”

 

McCree puts his hat back on and tips it to Genji. “Thank you kindly, doc. Now, let's see if I can do anything about that hand of yours.”


	2. Chapter 2

He takes Genji’s left hand; it's limp in his fingers. Genji watches him open a hatch on his wrist, seeing wires and circuits alike.

 

“Have you had to fix a robot before?”

 

“A couple of times. That was a long time ago.”

 

“How long?”

 

McCree pauses. He starts tinkering in silence, his gaze fixed upon the wiring. Genji wishes he hadn't asked anything and is about to change the subject when McCree finally answers, “Back in my Deadlock days. Long story. It ain't anythin’ I'm too proud of.”

 

His drop in volume is enough to tell Genji that he didn't come to know how to fix robots with clean morals. There's a lot of details that McCree doesn't want to talk about from his Deadlock days: robberies, murders, the thefts. But mnic that the gang practically kept as a pet was something he could never justify. Almost everyday that “bucket of bolts” was on the receiving end of target practice. At the time, McCree didn't think too much of it. He didn't think omnics could feel the physical pain of being shot but bullets. He never thought about the mental scarring.

 

As of now, McCree has mixed opinions on omnics. Recently he's leaned towards treating them equally, but he understands why someone would have bad sentiments with them. McCree hasn't forgotten the original Overwatch days. But at least he could say he's giving them a chance, which is something he couldn't say about other Overwatch veterans. Torbjorn came to mind.

 

“How do you know the owner of this shop?” Genji asks, probably to fill the silence while McCree works.

 

“Lombardo? Oh, he and I go _way_ back. Saved his store from bein’ robbed an’ vandalized a couple years ago. I told him to think of this as repayin’ me. I’ll be honest--I’d thought he’d been out of business by now. He seemed just as surprised as I was when we waltzed on in here.”

 

McCree tries to replace a loose wire and Genji jerks his arm back, gasping. He must have struck some kind of nerve.

 

“Shit. Sorry, Genji. Didn’t mean to hurt you or anythin’.”

 

“It’s alright. I was just surprised, that’s all.” He offers his dented hand back to McCree who gets back to work in a different area of his wrist.  “Not even I know the full mechanics behind my body. Only Dr. Ziegler does. She’d be having a fit if she were here right now.”

 

“Heh. I see you’re a victim of her frettin’ as well. I’ve been in the same boat plenty of times before.” McCree glances at his own metal hand, regarding the work Angela put into it and the look on her face the first time he had gotten it trashed on accident. But her hounding had become background noise as Jesse had gotten mesmerized in watching her tinker at the machine that was part of his body. Every time he’d reach in to try and help, Angela would slap his hand away.

 

“Shoot.” McCree leans back from Genji and searches the box of parts he’d brought in with him. A certain piece is missing, one that might be able to get Genji’s hand back to normal if he can connect everything correctly. Judging from the empty space in the panel, it must be some sort of wire with a plug on each end.

 

McCree scratches his chin in thought. An idea popped into his head and he snapped his fingers. “I got an idea,” he says. He opens up the panel on his own mechanical wrist. The prosthetic had been made by Angela as well, and McCree spots an undamaged piece inside that looks like it can be used to fix Genji. At least, it _should._ McCree only has some faith in it because he remembers how Angela would always be tinkering with it.

 

Before he can reach in and disconnect the part, Genji asks, “McCree, what're you doing? You shouldn't damage your own arm for no reason other than to fix me. We don't even have the same models. Yours is too old.”

 

McCree flexes his metal fingers. “Nothin’ wrong with something being old fashioned.”

 

“You mean like your entire taste in movies? Or what about the way you dress?”

 

“Oh, so you givin’ me sass now? Guess I don't need to fix you up after all.” Despite what he says, McCree is still removing the part from his arm. Once it's gone, only his thumb and two other fingers can be moved--the middle finger being one of them. It may come in handy in flipping someone off later today.

 

“Jesse, are you even sure it's alright to be taking pieces from your arm like that?”

 

McCree can sense a hint of concern in Genji’s voice. He shrugs it off and continues to work.

 

“Of course. I've watched Angela fix this thing up loads of times. She even taught me a few things or two.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like how easy it is to make her think I fixed up my arm using only paper clips and rubber bands.” He smiles fondly at the thought. “You should’ve been there to see the look on her face.”

 

Genji lets out a soft chuckle. “Ah, yes. Angela does take it upon herself to worry about us.”

 

“Well, we keep givin’ her reasons, after all.”

 

When McCree is finished doing his best, he wipes his forehead with his serape and looks at Genji. It had certainly taken longer than he expected it to be. “Okay,” he said, “that should be it. Do you think I got the show on the road?”

 

Genji holds his left hand out in front of him. The panel on his wrist still hangs open. McCree hadn’t been able to work out all of the kinks exactly, but Genji flexes his fingers stiffly nonetheless.

 

“This show will be receiving mixed reviews,” he tells McCree, looking back at him. “But you made a good stagehand.”

 

McCree adjusts his BAMF belt buckle and tips his hat. “And you’re not too bad of a star yourself, partner.”

 

He smiles at Genji and is sure that the cyborg is smiling right back at him from behind his cracked faceplate. At least, he certainly hopes so.

 

Years ago, back in Blackwatch, McCree could never get a read on Genji. Just about anything could set off his mood. From someone complaining about the food in the mess hall to someone talking about what kind of shampoo they used, it’d always make Genji deflate and hide away in the med bay or piss him off and make him lash out at whoever was around. McCree had been there to witness his fair share of the capricious behavior. He was never able to guess what Genji’s expression had been back then--if he’d be crying silent, hot tears of anger or looking at himself in disgust.

 

It was a stark contrast to his demeanor today.

 

Genji is still flexing his fingers, assessing McCree’s patch job. He touches his faceplate but notices McCree’s eyes on him and drops his hand.

 

McCree frowns. “Somethin’ else wrong?”

 

Genji rolls his shoulders back. “There might be a problem with my ventilation. The cooling unit must have gotten damaged and it’s getting very hot in here.” He is silent after that. McCree senses Genji’s discomfort. Even during their time in Blackwatch, he has never seen Genji without his faceplate.

 

“Sit tight, Genji. Lemme go get us some water.” It’s meant to be an excuse to leave the room so Genji can be alone, but McCree has been dying of thirst himself. Lombardo isn’t really bothered by the heat, hence no air conditioning.

 

He walks out and sees the omnic talking to a customer. The other omnic seems surprised to see a human in the store but makes no attempt to speak about it. McCree walks out and heads towards the gas station near the shop. He ends up going at a slower pace than he’d expected; seems like the soreness from the explosion was catching up to him. There’s a pain in his ribs and he’s only now realizing his headache.

 

McCree makes sure to make his trip quick. He doesn’t want to make Genji wait too long for him to come back with water. Both of them are thirsty and sweating in this New Mexico heat.

 

When he walks back into omnic shop, the same customer he saw earlier is still there. This time, McCree can swear the customer murmurs something to Lombardo, but he ignores it and makes his way back to the store room where Genji is. He figures that Genji must have his faceplate off and therefore knocks on the door before barging in.

 

“You ready for me to come back in? I got some water.” He has a water bottle in each of his hands. The one in his robot arm is only held by the three fingers that are responding without the piece he took out of it.

 

“Come in,” he hears in response. McCree enters and is surprised to see a scarred face staring at him. Genji doesn't look as uncomfortable as McCree thought he’d be with his face showing.

 

“Here.” He hands Genji a water bottle and watches the man drink from it graciously. Genji even pours some of it over the back of his head as a way to cool off. As McCree drinks his own bottle, he is unsure about how he should be reacting to seeing Genji’s face. After knowing him for so long, he is fully aware that was a topic to be avoided. But now, it seems like Genji is trying to be as casual as he can possibly be about it.

 

“Jesse, you're staring,” he observes, noticing McCree’s lack of words. “But whether it's out of curiosity or disgust, I am unsure of.”

 

“No, no. It ain't that.” Obviously Genji is still self-conscious about how he looks. McCree doesn't want to make him doubt himself. “Just a little surprised, is all. It's been awhile since we've last seen each other. You seemed to be in a pretty dark place during our Overwatch days.”

 

“Yes, I was. But I am a new man now. I've come to accept myself. And given the recall, I've been hoping that others are able to accept me as well.”

 

There's a sort of glimmer in Genji’s eyes. McCree realizes that this is the most hopeful he's ever seen Genji look. “That monk you've mentioned before, Zenyatta, remind me to thank him for this.”

 

“My master is already aware of my gratitude, but I'll try to remember to give him yours as well.”

 

McCree takes another sip of water. “Good to see that you’re feelin’ better ‘bout it, Genji.”

 

“Yes, and I have a feeling that the days yet to come will treat us well.”

 

“And why’s that?”

 

There's a soft smile on Genji’s face. “Because I believe I will be able to see the good in the world that I was too upset to see before. The time I spend with you, for example.”

 

“Aw, shucks, you're making me blush.”

 

McCree can't help but to feel just as content as Genji. Both of them have already drank off most of their water, but he holds his up to make a small toast anyways.

 

“Well, here's to better days.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

Genji taps his bottle with McCree’s, and they both have a good feeling about what the future may hold for them as they take another drink together.


End file.
